I used to be surprised when I would see people running on the rural roads where we now live.
I am not sure why, but I can guess I was operating on the assumption that country people don’t try to stay fit and healthy. I have since come to learn once again the old saying about people who assume. In fact, I have met lots of runners and walkers on these country roads. Eric is one of them.
Eric Brock lives a country mile down the road. For years we would pass each other and sometimes wind up going in the same direction. We talked, as runners do, and from our conversations I learned Eric was an artist. About four years ago he mentioned he was exhibiting some of his works at the Brown County Art Gallery in Nashville. Becky and I decided to visit.
When people think of “Brown Country Art” they often imagine images of faded red barns, yellow rolling fields and quiet streams through leafy autumn trees. An element of nature permeates most of this art. I think it is fair to say some of it can be a bit nostalgic, but there are also works from here that are thought-provoking and profound.
At the gallery we located his paintings. Then we looked closely. We saw right off that he has a good sense of form and color, and we appreciated his loose but controlled feel for the brush. His subject matter included the natural world as well as portraits. One particular painting, “Winter Pasture” especially captured my attention.
Two cows stare out of the frame. I would say “black cows” except that in nature black is never just black. These “black” cows are blue and reddish brown with touches of white on their noses. These two dominate the scene, but a snow-patched yellow field can be detected in the background. A few stems of hay dangle from their mouths as if they have stopped in mid-chew to observe the viewer. They gaze at me and I can’t help but gaze back.
What are they thinking? What does any animal think in that moment as it lifts it head to peer at a human? What is going on inside that brain? Is it a simple, unthinking observation of the world? A consideration of a threat? A possible food source? Is it some deeper, more heartfelt connection?
Psychologists tell us that it is an innate tendency of people to assign human traits, emotions and intentions to non-human entities. And yet we persist in the belief that our pets and other animals understand us, relate to us in more than a mechanical stimulus/response manner. It’s just what humans do.
I almost made an offer on the painting, but such impulsive purchases are very rare for the both of us. I did, however, use my phone to take a picture of “Winter Pasture” so I could remember it.
Maybe two years later, I came upon Eric on the road. We talked, as runners do, and I asked him if he still had “the cow painting.” He did and we discussed it. But running can distract the mind, and by the time I got home I had forgotten to follow up on it.
Then early last May Eric and I met on the road and, again, I asked him about the painting. He still had it. We talked price, and he suggested I stop by his house/studio to look at it. Well, I still liked the cows, and so it was agreed. He felt it needed a different frame which he would build. Some days later I got the call to pick it up.
And now, four years later, those perplexing, captivating cows are hanging on the wall over our piano where I can enjoy and contemplate them to my heart’s content.
Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
